Running from Myself
by Adraline Kali
Summary: Sarah Miller, an escapee, flees to Camp Crystal Lake. Will she and Jason be able to come to an understanding? Jason/OC. I'm taking this story one chapter at a time, so sorry for a bland summary. Rated M to be on the safe side.
1. Flee

She couldn't breathe. Fire burned in her lungs. Her footsteps were now automatic, leading her forward. How long she had been running, she didn't know. All she knew is that she wanted to put as much distance as possible between them. As she ran, the metal handcuffs clinked against her body. Her shoulder ached from where she twisted them from behind her body to the front. She had dislocated it in her escape, but she doubted that it had popped back in. But there was no time to treat it at the moment. So, despite how loud the pain in her body screamed, she kept running.

The foliage was becoming thicker. She reasoned that she was getting pretty deep into the woods. If she could find some shelter, she'd consider stopping. Her lungs were all too ready to agree.

The first few nights of the police searching would be the toughest to evade. They would bring dogs, copters, comb the area. Stopping now might mean capture. There was no way to tell how many miles she had run. Five? Ten? It wouldn't take them long to cover that little space. She had tried to cover her tracks, but in a sprint, and being pursued, going back to check could have resulted in capture. No, she thought, she had done the right thing. Distance is good.

She slowed her pace. She was past tired. Looking up in the sky, she guessed that it had to be around 7. Had she really been running for that long? It was only around 5, maybe 5:15, when she escaped. Maybe she had put more distance between them than she had thought. Would the dogs get this far in a night? She doubted it, but wouldn't bet on it. The most important thing now would be to find shelter before the animals and bugs came out to eat her alive.

How long had it been since she passed the lake? Which direction was it in? In her haste, she didn't even think about directions, but as far as she knew, she had run in a straight line. She would always been able to turn around and retrace her steps if she had to. But what waited for her out there? Jail? Lethal injection?

Her foot caught in some vines and she landed on her knee. Pain shot up her leg and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. For a moment, she considered just laying down right there. Her lungs begged her to stop. Her heart beat so quickly, so hard, she could feel it in her neck. Her shoulder was in serious pain. She grabbed ahold of a fallen branch and put it between her teeth. This was going to be excruiating, but a scream would alert others to her prescence. She took deep gulps of air, trying to ready herself, then grabbed ahold of her arm and shoved it back into place. Seering pain racked her nervous system, but she fought the urge to scream. The pain subsided quickly, leaving only a dull ache and relief in its place.

She turned around to untangle her foot. A metallic handle rose up from the ground, mostly covered by fallen leaves and foliage. She grabbed a hold it and yanked. It opened with a loud, grinding screech. A trap door? All the way out here? She stared into the darkness for a moment, debating whether she wanted to enter. It is shelter, she reasoned. She had to get out of the woods. It was probably an old bomb shelter. Or a pit of snakes. Well, whatever it turned out to be, it got her out of the open and offered a brief respite.

She eased her legs onto the ladder, leaving the door open so she could still navigate by sunlight. She stepped down, one foot after the other, until she found hard ground.

It was filthy inside. If it was a bomb shelter, it looked like the bomb had exploded inside instead of out. That, or someone had ransacked the place. It was cluttered with everything from baskets to an old bed to farming equipment. A great place to hide, she thought, but not a great place to be found. If they tracked her to this...clusterfuck...she would be a sitting duck.

She found a small electric latern and clicked it on. It offered hardly any light, but it would be suffient enough for the night. She returned to the trap door and closed it. She stood for a moment looking at the bed, wondering if it would be better, cleaner, to sleep on the floor. She kicked the bed, all too prepared to see roaches scurry from under it, but there were none. Resigning, she set the latern down next to the bed and laid down. Her body weakened and exhausted, it only took her minutes to fall asleep.


	2. The Man in the Mask

A loud thud woke her. Sarah paused for a minute to look around, remembering where she was. The electric lantern glowed softly beside her. All was quiet for a moment. Then, footsteps. Her heart jumped in her chest. Could the police have found her already? She jumped up, grabbed the light and took cover behind a broken dresser. As the footsteps grew close, she flicked off the light and listened in silence.

The sound stopped, then a dull light flooded the room. Worried that she might be detected, she squeezed her body against the back of the dresser, hoping to make herself smaller. The footsteps continued again. Who would live down here, she wondered. She was sure that it was vacant. Sarah peeked out carefully. The figure was large, quite large- heavy and sturdy. A white hockey mask covered his face. Just looking at him sent shivers down her spine. She wasn't one to become easily frightened, given all that she had done and seen, but his face was unsettling. With one strong hand, he spun the stone and sat down. Then she saw it- a machete. What was he doing with a machete? A loud grinding echoed through the room as he began to sharpen the blade. How long would he be there? He could be there all night! And here she was, trapped in a corner. The only thing that gave her solace is that if this...man...was here, then she was sure he would give the police something else to worry about.

She leaned against the side of the dresser and waited. And waited. She watched him until she lost track of the time. How long had he been there? An hour? Two? It drifted into boredom, then annoyance. If she had sought shelter at 7ish, she was probably asleep for maybe an hour. It was probably around 10 or 11. He would have to sleep soon. When he did, that's when she would make her escape. But as more time passes, it didn't look like he was going to sleep.

Just as she was about to give up hope, he stood, grabbed his machete and stalked out of the room. She didn't budge in case he came back, but a loud thud in the distance announced his departure. She stepped out from behind the dresser, taking the lantern with her, and headed for the trap door, eager to get out of there. She climbed up the ladder and opened the door.

The moon was still high in the sky. Maybe not as much time had passed as she had previously thought. She let the metal door close with a clang.

She wasn't sure where she wanted to go, but she knew that she couldn't stay there. Yet, she couldn't help but feel like it would be safe to stay nearby. She could live off his resources- food, light, water, shelter if needed. Who knew how long she would have to stay out here until the heat died down? She could sneak in at night for shelter, steal the food she could not catch herself. But if she got caught... Thoughts of the machete flooded her mind. Why would he need that? Even if he caught game in the nearby area, surely a machete wasn't the best weapon to use.

She walked for a half mile and found some shelter beneath some trees. The dirt did little to cushion her exhausted body, but it would be enough for now. She stared up at the stars twinkling overhead and thought about the events that brought her here.

_She started stealing at an early age. The crowd that she had gotten involved in we what her mother called "the bad crowd". Mom had been right. The mundane shoplifting soon turned into full blown breaking and entering. She stole everything from jewelry to TVs to computers -whatever she could carry out the door. It was wrong, but Sarah was selfish. It got her enough money to do whatever she wanted. If she ran out of money, another theft and she was set. _

_ It had been so easy to break in after the people had left for the night. The night that came back __to haunt her was April 18__th__. She had broken into a house with Kerri (a friend of a friend) after she had seen the man and woman leave for the evening. It wasn't the first time that she had worked with a partner, but something about Kerri didn't seem right. Nonetheless, Sarah needed money and another pair of hands meant more money. _

_ They had all the time they wanted and took their time collecting the easiest stuff to sell. But when Kerri went upstairs, something unexpected happened. Someone else was home. An elderly woman, probably the mother of the two who lived there, came out from a bedroom. _

_ Sarah heard the sound before she even saw the gun. She had never seen so much blood. It kept pouring out all over the carpet. The woman stared at her with accusing eyes, gaping at her, taking ragged breaths of air. If they had called 911 then, they might have been able to save her. But they didn't. Kerri seemed totally unfased, just staring at her. Sarah wondered how many times she had done it before to become so cold. She dropped the jewelry she had been carrying and ran. Kerri caught her before she could leave and slammed her against the wall. In fear that Kerri would turn the gun on her, Sarah promised to stay silent. Kerri shoved the jewelry back in her arms and told her there was still more to take. She stepped over the dying woman only to dig through her jewelry box._

_ Afterwards, Sarah returned home broken. She had trouble letting go at first and though it still dwelled inside her, gnawing at the guilt in her stomach, she found a way to not think about it. The old woman was dead. There was nothing else she could do. Life still went on, until all her sins began to catch up to her._

The snap of a twig caused her to sit up. Someone was coming. She pulled back into the shadows and watched from an opening in the trees. The large figure, the one in the mask, stepped into the moonlight. Sarah watched as he passed. As his machete turned in the moonlight, she caught the sight of blood on it, fresh and still dripping. Yet, as far as she could tell, he didn't carry any meat. So what was the blood from?

He paused in the clearing for a moment, unmoving and not appearing to look any which way, and then continued on through the woods, towards the area with the trap door.


	3. Food, Water, and Shelter

Sarah was thankful for warm summer nights, but the afternoon heat was a different story. Even sitting underneath the trees, she felt like she was sweating out all the water she had left in her body. She would have to take her chance and head to the lake. It wouldn't be so far away, but it would be smart to find something to store water in for later. In all the junk in the bomb shelter, or hideout, or whatever, there had to be a canteen or some kind of bottle.

She lifted the door open slowly, but it still let out a horrid screech. She left it open this time and hurried down the ladder. She wanted to hurry. There was no point staying down there longer than need be, to run into the man in the mask.

She shifted some things out of the way, looking in and around the furniture, but she couldn't find what she needed. Empty cans littered the floor but if they weren't caked in old food, they had holes in them. She threw them to the side and looked around the room for anything else useful. She found a knife stuck in the wall behind the grindstone. It would be useful to skin any animals she caught. She tucked it inside her pants and moved on. In the end, there was nothing she could find that would serve her purpose and not poison her in the process. If she had to travel to the lake once a day, then that's what she would have to do for now.

She left into the bright sunlight and let the trap door slam shut. The travel to the lake didn't take as long as she had thought. She was there in fifteen minutes, give or take. She waded out into the lake, cupping water into her hands and drinking deeply. The water was so blue, so clear, besides campers peeing in it, it had to be fine to drink.

Campers! Why hadn't she thought about that before? They would have to have food, maybe cans that they had left behind! Flashlights, bottled water, she drooled at the thought. As she circled the lake, dread began to creep back into her stomach. What if she was spotted by one of them? Would the police have put her picture on the TV? Surely they would have thought she would run to the woods. Still, they weren't pursuing her. Wouldn't they have come already? Dogs or helicopters? No matter. She would keep her expose to the night, where she could duck away into the darkness before anyone knew what happened.

The first campsite she came to was a group of cabins. Her body couldn't wait until night. Her stomach grumbled; her throat wanted more water. It looked vacant enough. She stepped up to the back of the cabin and looked in the window. No one inside. She walked around to the front and stepped inside, listening for the lightest footstep. When none came, she walked inside. It was empty. She checked the first three cabins and find them as barren as the last. Only when she walked into the fourth cabin did she come across a few cans of corn. She sat on the ground and stabbed the can with her knife. It took several desperate stabs for her to pull up the lid, and when she did, she sliced her finger open. It didn't matter. Her hand dug into the corn. It didn't satisfy her hunger, but it took the edge off. She tucked the remaining can in her pants and left.

As she left out the back, another smell filled her nostils. A rancid, decaying smell. It didn't take long to notice the source. A woman, or what used to be a woman, laid on the ground ahead. There was no blood, none that she could see anyway, but there were three long gashes in her back. Sarah's mind immediately flashed to the blood soaked machete. So the man in the mask wasn't hunting game after all. Or maybe just a different kind.

Sarah backed away, into the camp and ran out the front, wanting to put distance between her and the smell. That and the woman's eyes. Open and staring. Just like the old woman she had let die. The guilt crept in again and she fought to send it away, to the back of her mind where she wouldn't have to deal with it. There were more pressing matters. Food. Water. Shelter. The man in the mask. But the thoughts wouldn't go away. The eyes. The shallow breaths. The blood.

She stopped only once she was underneath her trees. She laid down in the dirt and let the guilt feed on her.

Lightning flashed across the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was coming. If she didn't seek shelter soon, she would be drenched. The trees would not offer shelter from the lightning, nor the rain. It was becoming clear that her only option for shelter was with that man.

She crept to the trap door and opened it. The grinding sound filled the forest, but she was used to it. Her feet felt down the ladder and she landed softly at the bottom. She clicked on her lantern and set it down beside her. Maybe she would just stay here, nearby. If she needed to escape, it would accessible. She hadn't seen the man in the little while. Maybe he had somewhere else to stay. But, if he was anything like her, he was going to want to get out of the rain. That meant that she would have to make sure to remain silent.

She sat with her back against the ladder, the soft light bouncing around the walls. Then, a loud thud. At first she thought it was thunder, but something didn't seem right. It sounded like it was right above her. She climbed up and pushed on the trap door, but it wouldn't budge. She slammed her body into it but something held it firmly down. She was stuck!

Terror filled her body as she heard a loud thud of a door closing nearby.


	4. Cornered

She slammed into the door a few more times, but it held fast. Something was on top of it, weighing it down. And now the man was coming home. Panic rose inside her chest. Did he know she was here? He must know. Had he noticed the few things that she had moved around? Heard the screeching of the trap door hinges? She must not have been careful enough. Her hands trembled. Did he purposely set something on top of the door so that she wouldn't be able to escape?

She crept towards the room, where she had stayed before. As she got close, she flicked off the lantern light. It wouldn't matter anyway. He would turn on the lights and the darkness in which she was hiding would disappear, leaving only her and him. That couldn't happen, not if she wanted to stay alive.

Footsteps drew close. She looked around for a place to hide. If he knew she was here, which seemed more and more apparent that he did, then hiding wouldn't do much. Would she be able to hide long enough to evade him, to run out the way he was coming in? She doubted it. If he thought about trapping her inside, he would be taking the extra precautions to prevent her from fleeing. All this time she was worried about the police trapping her in this shelter. Now she would come face to face with the man in the mask.

Her hand closed around the handle of the hunting knife she stole. She wouldn't go down without a fight. But would she really be able to plunge the knife into his heart? No, no, but she might to be to stab him somewhere lethal and then leave him to die. She was good at that.

He appeared in the doorway. Light flooded the room. His tall form towered over everything else in the room. His white mask shone. And in his hand, the machete. She felt the blood drain from her face. She could very well be taking her last breaths. There would be in escape. Could she bargain her way out of this? Be diplomatic?

Neither one of them moved in what seemed like eternity.

"Um..." her voice shook, "I-I'm sorry that I went through...your stuff..." It seemed so stupid after it left her mouth.

He just looked at her.

"Please...let me leave..." she sounded like she was begging. But wasn't she? "I won't come here again."

He took a step forward. She took one back. The time for pleading was over. She pulled out the knife, his knife, and raised it. His eyes looked from her to the knife. She realized that she may have just angered him farther. It was his knife after all.

He advanced on her. She moved around furniture, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. As she moved, she realized she was getting closer to the exit. She forced herself not to look at the way out. She didn't want him to know what she was thinking. But as she moved around the dresser, her instincts took over and she ran.

The hallway twisted and turned, but it seemed all one path. Her heart raced; her feet pounded the concrete. She couldn't tell how close he was, but there was no way she was going to stop and check. Finally she reached the steel door. She grabbed the handle and pulled. It didn't budge. She pulled again, yanking with all her strength. The door swung open, just as the blade came down on her.

It missed by only inches. The door blocked the attack, but sent her to her knees. She swung with the knife, but he moved backward so easily. She swung again, missed again. He raised his blade.

He stood over her. She looked into the eyes of her killer, seeing nothing but rage and loathing. This was the end. The big finale. This is where she would die. He brought the blade down on her.


	5. Unspoken Agreement

** I thought it would be a good idea to do a few chapters with Jason's point of view. So, I think every 5th chapter will be from his perspective. Thank you for the reviews. -AK**

The noises made him pause. Jason recognized the sounds. It wasn't the first time that dogs had been sent in. The police were here. Again. No matter how many of them he killed, they would not leave him alone! He looked down at the girl. She cowered, like every other pathetic thing did. He could kill her now, but it would be in haste and he wouldn't enjoy it as much. And she still had things that were his. It wasn't like she could escape, he reasoned. Run as she may, he knew these woods and he could track her down in a day.

He looked at the knife in her hand and rage seered through him once more. She had gone through his things. Stolen. A lantern. His knife. He wanted to kill her slow, but now there were other pressing matters. He stepped around her and left.

The barking was getting closer. His machete thirsted for blood. It had only been days since his freshest kill, but he yearned for more. The four legged bastards busted through the trees, sprinting towards him. He swung, cutting a huge gash in one. It fell to the ground in a heap. Another grabbed ahold of his arm. He reeled back and sent it flying into a tree trunk. It hit the ground and came back for more. The machete found it's mark that time.

Just as he was finishing with the dogs, five policemen emerged. Their guns were already drawn. They allowed themselves to look around at the dead dogs for only a second, then trained their guns on him. Jason was not afraid. He was never afraid. Bullets would not stop him. He caught a glimpse of a figure running in the woods out of the corner of his eye and realized there must be more. How many of them were there? He looked if any more of them had shown up, but still, only five remained. He strode towards them, a dog still biting at his calf.

They unloaded their weapons. Some hit him, most didn't. Jason swung his machete and watched as he took the head off one of them. His body slumped in the ground, spraying blood at the others. Another swing. Another hit. Down he went. One man tried to punch him, but Jason's punch was stronger, caving in his face. Another kill. The two remaining looked at him with wild fear. He stopped midswung when he felt the dog sunk it's teeth deep into the flesh on his calf. Though it didn't hurt, it made him lose balance and brought him to his knees.

The two police advanced. Jason fought to get to his feet. As they neared, he swung again. A miss. The two police lunged at him. He didn't move. The two men bounced off him. He sliced the leg off one. An agonizing scream echoed through the forest as the man stared down at what used to be attached to him. As Jason was about to shut him up, the other man jumped on him, wrestling with the machete. Jason fought him, but as he was getting the upper hand, the damn dog was back, biting at his hand. It's jaw slammed shut on Jason's wrist and he was forced to release his weapon.

The last man standing, and it wasn't Jason. The police man stood, blood covered and panting, and held the weapon up. Jason fought to get the dog away from him. He should have killed the fucking mutt first! Jason felt incredible rage seeing the man holding his weapon.

"Fuck you, asshole!" the man screamed at him.

He was aiming for Jason's neck and for the first time in his life, Jason felt something he never had before.

Fear.

The man brought the sword down, but stopped short. The light in his eyes began to fade. He pulled back slightly then his body went rigid again. Then again. Again. The man finally slumped forward, landing to Jason's side, blood pouring from different stab wounds in his back.

The girl stood over him, visibly pale, but more afraid.

She looked at the man, then at Jason, then reached behind her. She set the lantern in front of her, then threw the bloody knife, _his _knife, at his feet. She was returning his things.

She never said a word. She didn't have to. She had saved his life so that he would spare hers. She nodded once to him, an unspoken agreement, then turned and ran.


End file.
